


Can You Please Put a Shirt On?

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [58]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Hale is a Softie, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Slash, Protective Derek Hale, Scent Marking, Sharing Clothes, Stiles Stilinski Is Bad at Feelings, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess, The Hale Pack - Freeform, The Pack Ships It, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24841561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: Derek wants Stiles to start wearing his clothes (for platonic protective reasons, duh).Stiles... isn't totally against this.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [58]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889
Comments: 14
Kudos: 805





	Can You Please Put a Shirt On?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ForeverTheMomFriend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverTheMomFriend/gifts).



Stiles didn’t understand werewolves.

Yeah, he got that they grumped and growled. He knew that they ripped through shirts twenty-four-seven and could go through a dozen pizzas in one sitting. He understood that they went furry once a month and sometimes lost their eyebrows when things went south. But he didn’t understand werewolves.

More-so, he didn’t understand Derek Hale.

“So you’re telling me,” Stiles said, dubiously eyeing the shirt that Derek had thrown at his face. “That if I want to be a proper part of the pack, I have to smell like it?”

“Yes,” Derek said gruffly. His blank face didn’t betray a thing.

“Oka-aay,” Stiles said, drawing the last syllable out. “So, why don’t I just go around wearing Scott’s clothes then?”

Derek’s face tightened and his right eye twitched. He looked like he was seriously contemplating Stiles’s words; and like he didn’t have a good reason why Stiles couldn’t just do that. After a moment, he just growled. “I’ve been a werewolf for longer. My scent is stronger.”

“Dude, there are so many things wrong with that sentence, I’m not even going to try and address them all at once.”

Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles’s window was still wide open behind him, from where Derek had come swooping in like Batman and scared the shit out of Stiles as he sat at his computer researching. (Read: scrolling through youtube and debating the purpose of life). 

The Alpha werewolf had proceeded to throw a bag of clothes in Stiles’s face and after Stiles informed him he was not a charity, continued to grunt and growl until Stiles dug out one of his shirts.

It was an old henley and it smelled like Derek; aftershave and pine. Stiles had a sneaking suspicion none of these shirts had been washed in a while. He also had a sneaking suspicion there was more to the story than Derek was divulging.

But the man was an enigma.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. He dropped the bag to the floor and balled up the shirt in his hands, nodding. “Fine, sure, whatever. I’ll sleep in your smelly shirt, Sourwolf.”

“It’s not smelly,” Derek said, looking offended. Stiles snorted.

“Sure it isn’t. I’m going to change now, then, so you can leave. Unless you want to hang out and watch?”

Derek made a face and turned away, pulling himself back out of the window. Stiles tried not to be too offended by that. 

He was a catch, after all. Derek Hale could suck it.

He sighed and stripped off his shirt, pulling on Derek’s much bigger one. He’d never admit aloud that the sudden smell of the werewolf was slightly calming and the material was comfortingly soft against his skin. He’d also never admit out loud that he might have closed his eyes for a moment, sighing happily.

None of that ever happened. No, it didn’t. 

Stiles slept in Derek’s shirt. 

He might’ve had the best night of sleep he’d had in a long time.

* * *

The next morning, Derek’s betas wouldn’t leave him alone.

In fact, none of the werewolves would. Jackson gave him one deep, confused sniff as Stiles passed him by, and then proceeded to follow him around for the rest of the day. Erica practically pounced on him, Isaac whined like a newborn baby, and even Boyd dropped the ‘I’m too cool for school’ act.

Stiles didn’t know how to react.

Scott was… well, Scott took one whiff of him and continued to draw back with flashing red eyes. He looked confused. Then frustrated. Then downright puppyish.

“Stiles, why do you smell weird?”

“Uh, weird?”

“You smell different,” Scott said with a frown. He brushed his fingers over the back of Stiles’s neck and Stiles squeaked, ducking away. “You smell like... Derek.”

“Derek? Why would I smell like Derek?”

Scott narrowed his eyes and studied Stiles’s face. “I don’t know.”

“Me neither,” Stiles said with a chuckle and he was sure his heart skipped a beat. Before Scott could press, he turned away and hurried down the hall. “See you in class later, Scotty!”

Stiles knew he couldn’t avoid his best friend forever. He also knew he couldn’t avoid the betas forever either. And the thing was, Stiles didn’t know why he’d  _ want  _ to. Sure, he smelled a little strange. But Derek said it was a good thing. Derek said it was a pack thing.

Stiles may or may not have pulled the man’s shirt back on when he got home.

It was weird because Scott had never offered him clothes and if he had, Stiles might’ve thought he was crazy. And he definitely wouldn’t have been this enthusiastic.

Some small part of Stiles’s mind drifted back to the, uh, things he might feel for Derek Hale. Not likable things. Not likable things at all.

But, uh, likable things.

Dammit.

Stiles was lying in bed staring at the ceiling when there was a sharp knock on his window. He startled with a yelp and tumbled sideways, falling hard to the floor. For a moment, Stiles just laid there, heading spinning, and then he shoved himself up with a curse.

Derek was on the other side of the window. Of course, he was.

Stiles slid it open with a raised eyebrow, stepping back so the man could enter. He couldn’t help but notice how the werewolf’s eyes zeroed on the olive henley that Stiles wore and an almost pleased look flitted over his face. 

Then the growly brows were back again.

“You still don’t smell right.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes and turning away. He waved his hands dramatically through the air before faceplanting onto his mattress. “Everyone keeps saying that. Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Who’s saying that?”

“Uh…” Stiles blinked into his covers. “Scott.”

“Scott.”

“Yeah, Scott,” Stiles said, rolling over and blinking at Derek. “He says I smell strange. He says I smell like you. I thought I was supposed to smell like pack, Sourwolf! You know, so monsters would stop zeroing in on the unclaimed human?”

Something in Stiles’s words made Derek’s face turn bright red and Stiles could’ve sworn his eyes did for a moment too. The man growled and shook his head, before leveling Stiles with a flat look. “You will. Smell like pack.”

“Soon, I hope?”

Derek’s face softened a little. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“I’m just curious. I enjoy wearing my plaid and multi-colored sweatshirts too, you know. Plus, your betas wouldn’t stop smothering me.”

Derek’s eyes sparked red. He tilted his head and Stiles huffed.

“I mean, even Jackson was being less of a jackass. I mean Jackson—  _ Jackson.  _ It’s basically in his birth certificate that he has to be a douche!”

Derek was suddenly moving across the room and sniffing deep. Stiles yelped, shoving himself up and stumbling back in surprise. Derek’s eyes were grey-green again, but there was a look on his face that was nothing other than pleased. Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“Dude, what are you up to?”

Once more, Derek looked offended. “What.”

“You’re acting weird, Sourwolf. Why are you acting weird?”

“I’m not acting weird,” Derek said in a grumble, folding his arms over his chest. Stiles scoffed, unable to help himself.

“You’re acting so weird.”

Rolling his eyes, Derek started to turn away. Then he hesitated and glanced back and before Stiles could even begin to comprehend what was happening, Derek had stripped off his shirt and thrown it in Stiles’s face. He caught it with a squawk. “Wear that tonight.”

“W-w- I’m sorry,  _ what?” _

“Wear that,” Derek said flatly. “Tonight.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, turning away from the now very bare-chested Alpha werewolf standing in his bedroom, and placing a dramatic hand over his eyes. “Can you please…? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe put a shirt on?”

Silence reigned for a moment. When Stiles peeked through his fingers again, the man hadn’t moved. Or pulled on any articles of clothing. Stiles’s stomach was doing some unfair things at that. 

He didn’t consent.

“Dude,” Stiles said, not even caring anymore if his voice cracked. “Please, for the love of all things werewolfy, stop acting like crazy person and pull something on. I don’t even care if it’s one of my shirts!”

Derek rolled his eyes but snatched an old shirt off of Stiles’s floor. It was the color of blue and orange stripes and Stiles was pretty sure they’d been in this position before.

He lowered his hands and gazed at Derek with a flat look.

“Dude, what’s up with the clothes?”

“I told you—”

“Goddammit, Sourwolf, why do you want me to smell like you?”

Derek’s eyes widened and his face turned red. For a moment, his gaze flicked to the window and Stiles was sure he was going to make a run for it. But then the man deflated. “I want to help.”

“Help with what exactly?”

“If you smell like me,” Derek said. “If you smell like pack, then it’s a warning. A threat. And maybe things won’t hurt you.”

Stiles stared at him. Derek was glaring at the floor and something blossomed in Stiles’s chest. Some sort of soft emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“It’s not a thing,” Derek grumbled. Stiles chuckled lightly at that. He grabbed the shirt Derek had thrown at him and it was still a little warm. Bringing it to his chest, he nodded. 

“Fine, Sourwolf. I’ll smell like grumps and growls. But I have a right to wear my own clothes when I want too.”

Derek nodded, still staring at the floor. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You can take off into the night now.”

The man’s shoulders went lax in relief and he turned, pulling himself back out the window. The last thing Stiles saw was a clash of orange and blue before the man was gone. He shook his head, chuckling lightly to himself.

Because Derek Hale was a softie. Stiles sometimes seriously couldn’t believe that; other times he’d never been so sure.

He still didn’t understand werewolves.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: “Can you please…? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe put a shirt on?” and for some reason, that turned into clothes sharing in my mind. Of course, the comments you guys leave make my day! I hope you all enjoyed <3
> 
> Come hang with me on Tumblr!
> 
> [the dumpster](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)


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